“Of course, you work hard around here, you gotta play just as hard,” I tease her.
She just chuckles and heads back to her desk as I make my way towards Drew.
I’m looking forward to spending time with my brother at my stadium. I’ve been to his a bunch of times, but he’s never been here. It’s important to me that he likes it and that he understands what we are building. Drew was always the man that I went to for advice. He listened to me in a way my father never did. Made it seem like it was okay that I had doubts about my future and my ability to lead this team. He was the only one who offered encouragement and made me feel like I could do this job. Now, I’m thrilled to have him at my stadium for a game.
“Hey, man,” I say, greeting Drew when I see him.
“Hey, baby brother,” he replies as he pulls me into a quick hug.
I am the younger brother, but we have the same brown hair and eyes. Drew is the polar opposite of me in stature though. He’s tall and thin, where my form is muscular with broad shoulders. He almost appears too straight-laced to own a sports team. When you look at Drew’s outfit, it doesn’t scream that he’s here to watch a soccer game. He’s wearing black fitted trousers, loafers and a pale blue collared shirt rolled at the sleeves.
Not a stitch of team apparel in sight—for the Blaze or the Marlins.
I, however, am wearing my Blaze polo, paired with a dark pair of jeans and white Nike Dunks. I poke at his nose where the bridge of his black-rimmed glasses sits.
“How are things, four-eyes?” I tease him.
He shakes his head. “You’re such a jackass. Why do I come to see you?”
“Because we’re brothers and you miss me,” I remind him.
He chuckles, “I just saw you with Dad at lunch. I don’t miss you that much.” Drew claps me on the back and I just laugh at him.
“Oh, come on, I’m your favorite person in the world. I keep you young,” I tease.
“How do you keep me young exactly? Is it the way you regale me with your tales of booty? Is that how you keep me young?” He turns to me and shakes his head as we make our way to the elevators, so that we can head to the field house.
“You’re too serious, Drew. You’re a Cromwell. That does mean something and women respond to it. Especially with you owning the Marlins and flying in and out of cities like you do? Come on, you could get some serious tail,” I remind him.
“Or I could get a venereal disease,” Drew says with a shake of his head.
I laugh and grin at him. “Dude, just fucking wrap it and you’ll be fine.”
Drew raises his eyebrows at me and dryly says, “No.”
“Your loss, man.” I say, patting him on the back. “Come on, the girls are going to take the field soon and we’ll want to get our seats in the box.”
Drew nods and follows me as I head through the building and down to the field house. My house looks a lot like Drew’s. While the Blaze are a bright yellow and blue, the Marlins are a teal, red and black. Ithinkthat Drew chose those colors. Of course, Dad loved them. I was not given the opportunity to choose the Blazecolors. Dad had a marketing firm handle those elements before he built the Blaze PR team that we have today.
“I swear to god, I feel like I need sunglasses when I move through this place,” Drew quips as we head out into the Miami heat. The field house is a short but sunny walk from the office buildings.
“You mean the few feet we have to walk to get to the field?” I turn and ask him.
“Nope,” he shakes his head, grinning. “I’m referring to the colors on your walls. That blue and yellow is so fucking bright.”
I shake my head. “Well, we all can’t be Dad’s favorite. Some of us weren’t given the luxury of choosing our own team colors.”
“Dad would have listened if you would have just told him whatyouwanted,” Drew insists. He always believes that Dad is not as hard on me as I think he is.
I let this one go.
“Do you want a beer?” I ask him when we’ve reached the box.
“I will say this, you may not like your colors, but Dad gave you a sweet-ass box,” he comments, looking around.
The owner’s box sits high above the pitch, a glass-fronted oasis overlooking the stadium like a command center. Plush seating lines the space—deep navy sofas accented with bright yellow throw pillows. The team colors are woven into every detail without screaming “the Blaze.” A long bar stretches along the back wall, stocked with sparkling water, top-shelf liquor, imported beers, and a curated spread of match-day snacks. Behind it hangs the Blaze’s logo, glowing with a soft light.
The floor-to-ceiling windows wrap around the room, which gives an unobstructed view of the field below. The glass is tinted just a bit so that it offers privacy but clear enough that the view of the crowd feels like you’re sitting among the fans. A row of high-backed leather seats face the pitch, each featuring the yellow and blue of the Blaze.
